


Bad Shot

by BabysNotaProp (SuzetteB)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bleeding Out, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Cullenlingus, Dean x Reader, Dean x You - Freeform, F/M, Gentle Sex, Oral Sex, POV Female Character, POV Original Female Character, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Reader Insert, Smut, Supernatural Elements, Tumblr Challenge, Vaginal Sex, Writing Prompt, bamf female character, dean x y/n - Freeform, family business, fanfic writers are thirsty AF, getting shot at, hunting things, kan i haz kudos?, lucky to be alive, reader is a badass, sam and dean to the rescue, saving people, unlucky number 13, you're alive! sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 16:33:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15295605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuzetteB/pseuds/BabysNotaProp
Summary: You are attacked in your own home by a monster who thankfully has really bad aim.





	Bad Shot

**Author's Note:**

> This is a reader-insert one shot borne of a challenge I partook of on Tumblr. I meant it to be less than 500 words and now, 2.7k words later, here we are. Oh well. Enjoy!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at deans-jiggly-pudding

Unlucky 13 Prompt: Getting Shot At

You flipped your hair over and combed through with your fingers, the roaring hair dryer drowning out any ambient noise in your apartment. This was your least favorite part -- when your two most prominent senses were useless, leaving you at your most vulnerable. You’d rather be washing soap out of your eyes in the shower, since then you could at least hear a threat approaching.

Suddenly two sharp pangs ripped through your body, the raw power vibrating through your meat in waves. Shit, it felt exactly how you expected electrocution to be like, pulsating and crippling. With a thud you hit the floor, your shaking hands clutching to the dryer in pained panic, tearing the cord from the wall. When the throbbing failed to subside, you glanced down at your shoulder and inhaled so sharply your tongue nearly choked you. Two bullet holes oozing blood through your shirt were staring straight back at you, and as the realization that you had been shot dawned on you, so did secondary pains. It was like reflexing off of a hot stove, knowing you were hurt but only feeling the appropriate pains after your brain had a chance to register what had happened to you.

Threat. Threat. Threat. You shoved the blinding burn in your whole upper body to the back of your mind as you stumbled to your feet and drew your concealed weapon. Looking behind you, you saw several bullet holes in the shower wall where he had missed before hitting you. With a grunt you peeked around the corner of your bedroom to see a bush of dark hair duck behind your kitchen countertops. Okay, not only were they a shit shot, but their “stealth mode” left much to be desired.

“You shoot like a bitch,” you deadpanned. Instead of a response, you caught the sound of your assailant racking the slide, followed shortly by something small and round hitting the floor and rolling, followed by muttered swearing. Your rolled your eyes and shook your head; this poor excuse for a firearm owner had no fucking clue how many rounds he had left or how to properly check.

“You wanna tell me why exactly you’re shooting at me?”

Blood was blossoming across the fabric of your shirt and you grit your teeth as your muscles spasmed in shock, new waves of pain rocketing through your whole body. If you didn’t get pressure on the wound soon, you could lose too much blood. But you couldn’t do that before the area was secure, and there were only two other hunters you trusted to back you up.

Keeping the kitchen counter in your peripheral vision, you breathed heavily as you sent a text to Dean:

_S.O.S. I’m hit. My house. Monster unknown but he’s a dumbass._

If he got the text right away, which he usually did unless he was on a hunt, it would take them precisely four minutes and thirty seven seconds if Dean was driving. Sam took a couple of minutes longer, since you know, speed limits exist and stuff.

Within seconds the reply came: On our way.

Tired of the quiet, you tossed your hairbrush into the dining nook adjacent to the kitchen and readied your weapon. Like a charm, the move spooked the mystery idiot and he popped up to take a shot toward the noise. And they said all those years of playing Whac-A-Mole wouldn’t help in real life. With a pull of your trigger the brown haired assailant’s weapon flew out of his hand, his wrist jerking back as he screamed in agony.

Rushing into the kitchen, you blinked away the black spots in your eyes and clocked him in the side of his head with your weapon, sending him to the linoleum floor.

“My dude,” you breathed heavily, your wounds slowly but surely taking away your consciousness, “there’s no way you’re human, because my four year old niece can shoot straighter than that.” You kicked his gun away and pointed the barrel of yours to his head. “You’re either a newbie hitman or a monster who wants me gone without,” you inhaled deeply, clearing your blackening vision with some fresh oxygen to your brain, then exhaled, your breath shaking, “without it looking supernatural, especially with two certain Winchesters living a couple miles away. So the question is,” you begin lowering your pistol, “is this even gonna work on your sorry ass?”

In a blink, wolfish eyes and canine teeth flashed as the beast growled at you from the floor. Your shot to his wrist was more of a shock than injury, his bleeding already subsiding as his teeth glistened in the fluorescent kitchen lighting. Before you could fish through the drawer for silverware, he jumped to his feet, landing you flat on your back. You could feel the dull sting of your gunshot wounds weakly pulsing as you continued to bleed, but a new rush of blood reached your head with your brain at the same level as your heart. Crawling back into your room before he could catch up, you locked the door and sent another text to Dean:

_Werewolf._

____

____

You weren’t sure if the monster scratching at your door could hear the low rumble of the Impala right outside your apartment, but you sure could, and you’ve never been so relieved. Trying to stay close to the floor in order to stay conscious, you swept one hand across the floor, looking for something, anything silver, while the other pressed a dirty t-shirt against your shoulder. A sweep under the bed kicked up a few large hoop earrings, a necklace or two, and a Tiffany chain bracelet… all silver. With a weak sigh, you bent the hoop earrings into mostly straight spears and held the rest in a tight fist, crawling back to the bedroom door on your knees and one elbow.

Black spots once again began to cloud your vision as you turned the door handle. The werewolf lunged in, landing on top of you with a gnarr. His eyes were mad with bloodlust, but you could barely tell as darkness once again began to take you.

“My pack wanted to get rid of you without raising any suspicions, but it seems I’ll have to handle you the old fashioned way,” he snarled through engorged fangs as he raised his clawed hand over your chest. Your wounds stung as you took a breath in preparation for your last ditch move.

With every last bit of energy you had left, you hooked your foot around his leg and flipped him onto his back, stuffing the necklaces into his mouth. While shocked at the burn as the metal slowly slid down his throat, you clamped the Tiffany bracelet against his throat to choke him. Gasping while smoke erupted out of his mouth, he jolted and writhed under you, slowly losing control of his body under the touch of silver.

The front door cracked as Dean kicked it off its hardware, the two rushing in ready to join the fight with their welcomed silver bullets.

Raising your makeshift stakes, you nod at the Winchester boys before plunging the straightened earrings into the monster’s neck, eliciting a string of weak howls that morphed into gagging sounds, which gradually silenced as the creature went limp. Once the smoking subsided, you glanced up at Sam and Dean, who were hovering over you like worried mother hens.

Barely audible, your next words puff out as your sight funnels into a small circle in the middle, Dean’s face the only thing you can see anymore. “Blood. Dean, too much bl--” and then you collapsed.

You have no idea how long you were out. But when you came to, there was a collective sigh from a group of doctors and nurses bent over you, followed by some medical jargon and incessant beeping of your monitors. No more than a minute later, Sam and Dean were staring at you from above with combined expressions of worry, relief, and wonder. The hovering thing really did need to stop.

“Fellas,” you mumbled as you looked from one to the other.

Sam let out a breath. “Y/N, you’re back.”

Your brows furrowed. “Huh?”

Dean spoke up. “You died, like, four times, sweetheart.”

You blinked twice and turned your head toward Dean. “Seriously?” When both of them nodded, you prodded, “Was it cool? Like in like Dr. Sexy, with angsty background music and hot male nurses?”

Sam huffed, shaking his head and turning to Dean. “She’s fine. I’ll let you two talk.”

Once Sam left, you gave Dean a death glare. “What does he mean ‘talk’?”

“I uh,” Dean cleared his throat and avoided eye contact for a moment, “Y/N I thought you were a goner.”

You took a moment to collect your thoughts. You and Dean might have become really good pals the past few weeks since you moved to town. You guys might have, maybe, found some things in common: hunting stories, daddy issues, a general love for Dr. Sexy, M.D. You two could possibly have found each other’s company to be pleasing in… more than one way. Dean might have snuck off to your apartment after hunts before Sam could tell he was missing. One or two times. Okay, one or two dozen times. But it was mostly to watch Dr. Sexy. The fact that you got sidetracked in each other’s pants was totally coincidental.

If you were reading into this accurately, Dean had spilled his guts to Sam after your third or fourth death and now your secret romance wasn’t so secret anymore. At first, you weren’t telling him because _it was only a fling, I swear_ , but then you two actually started finding each other interesting and welp, it was a slippery slope. Dean liked your laugh, the way you forgot the punchline which ended up funnier than the actual joke, and your resourcefulness to use whatever was at your disposal to fight. And you liked the way his smile reached his eyes, his endless wealth of knowledge about dozens of different subjects, and how fiercely he loved those closest to him. You knew he had only given Sam the Cliff Notes version of the above, but it was still a little jarring. Surely you two would’ve told his little bro eventually, but this certainly jump-started things.

You nodded. “Okay.”

Dean’s head popped up. “Really?”

“But only if you make me dinner at your place once I bust outta here.”

A smile crept across his face. “Awesome.”

\---------------------

Dinner was amazing. The “You’re Alive!Sex” was even better. It was your first time in the bunker, and although you had every intention of getting the grand tour and geeking out over this exquisite piece of history, you were quite content in Dean’s room at the moment. A mess of clothing littered the floor, leading from the door to the bed. You couldn’t even remember the last time Dean acted this intense during sex -- maybe never. Every stroke of his fingers across your skin set you on fire; every kiss was more meaningful than the last; every touch full of purpose.

Your kisses were open mouthed and hot, his chest pressed against yours as you laid on your sides. He ran his knuckles across the curve of your hips, his delightfully rough skin scratching you lightly. Pulling you closer to him, he began sucking at your neck, stopping to lick at the place below your ear that always made you squirm. Ever so gently, he kissed the bullet wounds on your shoulder, now scabbed over and healing nicely. The sweet gesture made you blush.

Laying you on your back, he kissed a trail down your sternum and under each breast, which got a breathy moan out of you. Green eyes looked up at you and twinkled as he traveled further down, your heartbeat rising with every wet kiss and flick of his tongue, first on your tummy, then belly button, then down, down, down. Your lover took a moment to position your thighs on his shoulders and he held your legs still as he breathed close to your core, making sure you could feel the movement of air against your wet folds.

“Oh come on, Dean,” you whimpered against his teasing. He chuckled, another huff of air hitting your entrance, and you were sure you could feel a pulse in it. You rolled your eyes and sighed, your body aching with need.

Without warning, he laid his tongue flat against your pussy and licked a straight line up to your clit. A startled moan escaped your lips and your legs jolted at the sudden contact, but he kept you still with his strong arms. He explored you with his tongue while you whimpered in ecstasy, one lick after another building and building the heat deep within you. You bucked against him, desperate for him to hit your clit again, but he wouldn’t. Any words that came out of you were a garbled mess of curses and pleas. He pulled away for a moment and you the loss of contact reminded you to breathe.

The next thing you felt was his mouth -- his whole entire mouth -- around your folds, as if he was actually eating you. Over and over he opened his mouth around you and slowly closed his lips into a pucker, and you threw your head back and let out a shaky sob, your name on his lips with every mouthful he took. Your eyes rolled back when you felt him shift his position a little and his nose began rubbing against your clit, as well as his tongue shallowly fucking you.

He hummed while his tongue was inside you, sending vibrations you could feel everywhere. “Babe, you taste amazing,” he said when he came up for air.

You looked down at him, a sweating, quivering mess. Breath erratic, eyes glazed over, with nothing to do but beg for more. It was too much and not enough. How much more could this man take you apart?

“Uhh,” you stammered, “you too.” Oh dear god. You too? What the fuck, Y/N? It was like at the drive thru, when they’d go ‘Enjoy your food!’ and not paying any attention, you’d be like, ‘You too!’ and feel like an absolute moron for the rest of the day. Way to go, Y/N.

But Dean laughed it off and crawled over you once more and kissed you until you forgot what you were embarrassed about and the aching need in your core was hot once more. He placed your legs on either side of him and positioned himself at your entrance, and you wrapped your legs around him as he sank into you, inch by inch. Once he bottomed out, both of you let out a sigh and he kissed your neck lovingly. You lifted your hips to encourage him to start moving, and he took the hint.

Pulling back until only the tip remained in, he stopped for a beat before thrusting back in with enough force to make you shout again but enough control to keep a good pace going. He moved in and out, at first slowly, but eventually picking up the pace, and you shifted your hips to meet every thrust. You were so close, _so freaking close_ , but you needed just a little bit more.

“Dean, I need --”

“I know, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” he said between pants as he reached between you to gentle rub your clit as he continued to plunge into you. With a gasp, you grabbed his hair as your orgasm hit you in waves, the pleasure surging through your body and your pussy tightening around his cock. Suddenly slowing, Dean gave a short grunt and spilled inside of you, staying with you as you finished moving and pausing briefly to collect himself before pulling out of you and collapsing on the bed beside you.

You two were usually pretty quiet after sex. But this time was different, somehow. It felt more like love-making, if you dared even use that word. You couldn’t help but pipe up after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“So if that’s what almost dying gets me, I guess I better take on some more dangerous hunts?”

Dean glared at you. “Don’t you fucking dare.”


End file.
